Letters in Stone Walls
by Ereka Rayne
Summary: George Weasley writes a letter to his deceased brother a few days before their birthday. Set a few years after Book Seven. Drabble, in a letter format.


**Letters in Stone Walls**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor make money from any of my writings. I claim only my ideas.**

**Author's Note: I was bored in my English class and decided to challenge myself to a drabble. This is NOT a yaoi, and WARNING, this has spoilers in it regarding the 7th book and life afterwards. YOU SHOULD READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T. **

**Theme: My War is Eternal.**

**Limit: Two pages.**

**Challenge: Write in George's POV, a letter to Fred Weasley. **

**Must have: George must be married to Angelina Johnson (as in canon), must have his children (Fred and Roxanne). Story time must be set a few days before Fred and George's birthday (April Fools) and must be after the war.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

To my handsome mirror-image,

How's the weather up there? I reckon you've already started your own joke shop, I bet you've already given the angels trick sweets that turn their wings into rainbows and go off like firecrackers, and the choir harps that sound like Perce when he sings in the shower. No one will trust a sweet again, ay mate? You givin' God a run for his money? He musta been in a good mood when he created ya, mate.

Even after all these years, I still can't believe my ear's gone. I guess we're two holy brothers after all, geddit, Fred? I actually made a fake ear but decided not to use it-- I like not having one.

Angelina Johnson and I got hitched. I'm wearin' the ole ball and chain-- well, not quite. Angie's a free spirit but she's still a woman, and woman are touchy-- blimey, you should see her when it's that time of the month for her. By George (heh), she's worse then our mum when she got mad at us, or a werewolf-- the jury's still out on that one.

I do love her though. Can you believe I got two kids, now? I never reckoned I'd have a child--let alone _children_!-- of all people. Never saw myself getting married either--but times change. I named my son Fred Jr--he's a handful. You'd love him, bro. He's a little tyrant, but I see us in him... I can smell the gunpowder and hear the explosions tyke's got green eyes and thick red hair like us Weasleys but he's got dark skin and his mummy's features. He's two now and blimey, Fred, I really thought I wouldn't like kids. Roxanne is a beauty, too-- she's a darling girl with dark red hair, almost black. She's got freckles and brown eyes, and she has our nose and chin. After seeing Ginny's kids and Ickle Ronniekin's runts, I think it changed my mind. I'm an uncle and a father... times HAVE gone by fast. You'd love them, Fred. Perfect Percy and Hermione are his godparents-- it amused me because they'd both try and fail to keep us in line, remember? Perce has been spoiling the little runts like a grandfather instead of a godfather. He said that if there was one thing he'd take back, it was how he treated us. Hermione loves him too-- she joked that she'd need to keep an eye on them before she'd have us on her hands again.

Mum n' Dad are thrilled senseless-- they're grandparents of twelve, and maybe more-- Ginny may have a fourth on the way, and little Teddy Lupin is like family.

Our shop is in full bloom-- April First is our big sale, and birthday. Ron helps me manage the store, and Verity, the young gal that helped us years back still helps, with a few other blokes. Buisness is booming-- those suprise tricks you'd made are some of the most popular things. It's a memorial for me... Lettie takes over the shop and I-- I visit you.

To this day, dear brother...my war never ended.

Sure, Voldemort was killed that night, and the time of the Death Eaters ended, but I still can't stop seeing you die over and over in my head. Life isn't the same without you, bro...I still can't imagine it. When you died, I thought I couldn't bear to live...I didn't think I could live without you here. But for some reason, time didn't stop for me, like I expected it to-- it kept on turning--and look at me now. I still keep expecting you to walk into my house when I least expected and go, "Got ya good!" I can't believe you're dead. But even though the war's ended, my war never ends.

You're the permanent battle scar.

George


End file.
